


2048 and Things a Milkovich Would Never Admit

by ShamelesslyGallagher



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: 2048, Domestic, Fluff, Kink Fic, M/M, Strip Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:37:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShamelesslyGallagher/pseuds/ShamelesslyGallagher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian forms an unhealthy obsession to a new game and asks Mickey for aid. But of course every task has a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2048 and Things a Milkovich Would Never Admit

“Fucking piece of fucking shit!” Ian shouted in frustration from the living room.  Mickey rubbed his eyes and rolled over glaring at the alarm clock.

 

“Ian, it’s 2 fucking 30 in the morning.  What the hell is wrong with you?!”

 

After Ian refused to offer any justification for his outburst, Mickey rolled back over trying to get at least a few more hours of shut eye.  But apparently Ian had a different idea as he jumped on Mickey, pinning him to the mattress.

 

“Hey, you’re kinda good at video games, right?” Ian implored.

 

“Gallagher, do me a favor and only wake me up if you’re gonna blow me.  If not then get the hell off and let me sleep.  And no shit, course I am.  Stop asking stupid questions.”  Mickey squirmed trying to get free but Ian’s much larger frame refused to move.

 

“Help me?” Ian pleaded.

 

Mickey would never admit to it, but Ian’s bright green doe eyes could get him to do anything.  A weakness, Mickey realized, that Ian would exploit every chance he got if he knew about it.

 

“Give me the damn phone and get the fuck off me,” Mickey responded.  Ian, grinning that stupid grin that would always make Mickey’s heart beat just a little bit faster, rolled off his boyfriend and handed him the phone.  Mickey would also never admit that he missed the warmth Ian’s six foot furnace of a body provided.  Of course, this was all shit he’d never say aloud because he’s not a fucking lovestruck pussy.  At least that’s what he told himself even though the truth was he was so far gone for Gallagher he couldn’t fathom life without his red-headed, body pillow of a boyfriend.  Not that he’d ever say that girly shit out loud, he was a Milkovich mind you.

 

“Are you fuckin kidding me?!  You woke me up and deprived me of fuckin’ sleep for this god awful numbers game?!”

 

“I just can’t get passed 1024.  Teach me your ways, oh-wise midget,” Ian said giggling, ducking from the remote Mickey aimed at his head.

 

“Two fucking inches, two measly goddamn inches and you will not let that go.”

 

“Psh, do you tell yourself it’s only two inches to stop the tears at night?” Ian teased.

 

“Oh fuck you, solve it on your own,” Mickey stated; he was definitely going to make Ian work for it after the midget comment.

 

“That’s ok, you probably couldn’t have done any better anyway. I bet you couldn’t even get to 32.”  Ian’s attempt at being nonchalant wasn’t working but fortunately for him Mickey was still half asleep so he took the bait without much effort.

 

“You wanna put your money where your mouth is, firecrotch?” That was an answer Ian wasn’t prepared for but he’d be damned if he backed out of a challenge now.

 

“Fine, first person to 2048 gets… _whatever_ they want,” Ian smirked.  He never imagined Mickey would take a bet so vague so he sure as hell didn’t expect the answer he received.

 

“Sure, we have time to kill before sunrise since your glorious ass refused to let me sleep, let’s make things a little more interesting:  each time you reset the level, you take off a layer of clothing.”

 

“Oh that’s easy for you to say, Mick! You’re bundled up like an eskimo and I’m wearing sweats and a t-shirt!”

 

“For a grown man, you sure do whine a whole fuckin’ lot.”  Mickey knew that’d drag him in; hook, reel and sinker.

 

“Fuck you, fine.”  Ian would be lying if he didn’t say the idea of strip-2048 with Mickey fucking Milkovich had him hard already.

 

It was 3 in the morning when they started because Mickey’s phone took 30 years (or what felt like it) to download the app.

 

“Ready? Not too late to back out,” Ian smiled smugly.

 

“You’re gonna regret this,” Mickey fired back.

 

***

 

Mickey was the first to reset.  And the second.  And the third.  Fortunately, winters in Chicago were brutal and their heater went out just the day before so he had layers to spare.

 

Mickey was close to his fourth reset when he heard Ian mutter a simple “fuck” under his breath and began to peel his old US army shirt over his head.  Now that was one view Mickey would never get sick of.  He’d never tell Ian but on nights when Mickey couldn’t sleep or was plagued with nightmares of his Father’s abuse and his ex- wife Svetlana and the child he sends a check to monthly, he’d lay awake and count the freckles on Ian’s back or arms depending on who was the big spoon that night.

 

But they only spooned purely for survival, you know, just to stay warm and shit.  Mickey Milkovich does not cuddle.  And if the spooning happened to continue on into the summer when he’d wake up sweating because Ian was literally a fucking space heater, well Mickey would pretend not to notice.

 

He tossed the phone on the floor unceremoniously and lazily moved over to Ian, and  began to run his fingers over the pale, freckled flesh.  He began tracing the muscles down the younger boy’s abdomen only to get his hand swatted away.

 

“What the hell was that for?” Mickey demanded.

 

“Quit trying to distract me, I haven’t won yet,” Ian explained focusing on the game.

 

“Okay first of all, who the hell do you think you are?  You’re not gonna beat me. And second of all I’m harder than trying to pass high school with a 5.0 GPA.  It’s just a game and a boring one at that.  We should spend our time doing something a little bit more… _rewarding_ ,” Mickey said as he leaned in again.

 

“Keep your damn hands off the prize,” Ian grouched, denying Mickey’s second attempt to distract him.  “Win or deal with having a perpetually hard dick, not my problem.”

 

“You pompous fucker.”

 

“Oooo breakin’ out the big vocabulary, shit’s getting real,” Ian teased

 

“Fuck you. You’re on, fire crotch,” Mickey spit back.

 

***

 

They continued playing the game all morning until they were both left in their boxers.

 

“Welp, this has been fun but I gotta go to work and also you suck at this even more than I thought.”

 

“But your shift doesn’t start for another 30 minutes!” Mickey declared unsatisfied that there had yet to be a winner.

 

“I’d love to stay and chat but your short ass can really hold more alcohol than humanly possible so I gotta pick up some groceries too.”

 

“Along with stronger beer,” Mickey muttered, earning him a swift slap to the side of the head.

 

“Anyway, some of us actually have a job to get to so I’ll see you after my shift at the Alibi,” Ian said as he quickly leaned over to give his boyfriend a brief kiss.  He pulled away much too quickly, to Mickey’s dismay, and smirked, “That was just a sample, the offer’s still on the table. Get to 2048 and I’m all yours.”

 

“Who said I want you as my prize?” Mickey retorted.  Ian mocked being wounded then added, “You should be so lucky.”  Ian slung his scarf around his neck, opening the door and letting the chilly air in.  “Until later, mah dear.”

 

“Chill it with the girly shit and get your ass outta here.  You’re only gonna be gone a couple of hours, I think I’ll last.”  But Mickey couldn’t help the smile that betrayed his lips.  He did love Gallagher’s theatrics.

 

***

 

It was a slow day at the Alibi but Ian need some peace after a sleepless night. He was halfway through his shift when the text arrived.

 

_From: Mickeeyy_

_Time: 3:02 pm_

_Message:_

_Better call in sick tomorrow because I have other plans for you._

Attached was a screenshot of a completed 2048.

 

Ian couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips.  He quickly put away his phone to refill his patron’s drinks and listen to them ramble about conspiracy theories.  He feigned interest, but couldn’t help the giddy excitement he felt everytime he glanced at his phone.

 

Ian knew he loved Mickey.

 

Ian knew Mickey loved him, although he never said it aloud. Just in the way Mickey acted, Ian knew.

  
There are some things a Milkovich would never admit.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Gallavich fic, hell it's the first fic i've ever written so let me know what you think(:


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